


Defected

by gh0stly



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Divergent, Gen, more characters to be added as I update
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 13:05:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9898361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gh0stly/pseuds/gh0stly
Summary: Finally free from the clutches of his old Master, Maul finds himself and his brother the targets of a galaxy-wide manhunt.





	

**Dathomir**

  
  


The searing-hot sun beat down on the golden sands of Dathomir, and Maul’s life under Darth Sidious felt so very far away.

Integrating into life with the nightbrothers, a nomadic tribe of zabraks and where Maul had carefully traced his heritage years ago, had been a steep learning curve. He no longer had access to the technology his old master had to offer; his droids, his tools, his speeder, but if it meant to be out of the old man’s control once and for all, he would have given up so much more than just those trivial toys.

Even so, the Scimitar remained where Maul had first landed it, and hadn’t been touched since. He couldn’t be sure that his old master would never find him here, after all. He stood under the shadow of the cliff face, staring almost fondly at the sand that had accumulated over the old thing. The longer it stood there, gathering dust, the longer Maul was free. How long had he been here now? A year, perhaps? Maybe even longer.

The former Sith weighed the lightsaber in his hands. He could keep _some_ of his old toys. Getting rid of his lightsaber would feel like losing a limb. His mouth twitched.

“I know you’re there, brother,” he said, throwing a glance over his shoulder.

Feral stood just a few metres away, looking out from behind the rocks at the base of the cliff with wide, blue eyes. He stepped out from behind them, into the shadows where his older brother could see. Brother. The concept still felt strange.

“Is this the ship you came here in?” Feral asked as he approached.

“A long time ago, yes. Of course it doesn’t matter to me now.”

“Then why did you come all the way out here just to look at it?” Feral replied, taking his place at Maul’s side.

Not a single day had gone by where the boy hadn’t bombarded him with questions. He decided this one didn’t need an answer.

“Why did you follow me?” Maul asked, clipping his saber to his belt.

Feral shrugged.  “To see where you’d go.”

“You have things to be doing back at the village, do you not?”

“I just had to leave. Stretch my legs a little bit, you know? And you’re always sneaking off. The village can just get… a little suffocating.”

The boy approached the ship, ducking under its sleek black hull, inspecting every inch of it with his hands. Maul watched in amusement as he wiped the dust off one of the landing stands, his eyes bright with curiosity.

“The sisters sometimes fly around in ships like these,” he said as Maul approached him, “I know what they’re meant to do. I just can’t imagine ever going to another planet. I’ve never so much as seen an off-worlder before…”

“You’re not flying my ship.”

“No- That’s not what… Can I fly it a _little_ bit?”

“You would crash and die,” Maul said.

Feral placed a hand over his chest, “Aww, brother, you _do_ care.”

“No,” Maul answered, “it would be a waste of a good ship.”

Feral rolled his eyes. “Since when were you funny?”

The boy ran his hand along on of the exhaust vents, leaving a clean line through the dust.

“Really, though. One day you’re taking me to see it.”

“See what?”

“Everything,” the boy said.

Maul watched him, his expression turning bitter. “It might not be what you hope for.”

“I don’t care,” Feral threw a glance over his shoulder, his hand dropping to his side, “Maul… will you ever tell me about your life before you came to--”

“No,” Maul answered sharply.

“Okay, okay. Sorry I asked. I just--”

A sound like a low and urgent howl rolled across the desert towards them. Their heads swivelled to the source. The nightbrothers’ clarion. Maul frowned. The sound faded, and rose again. Three times the horn resonated across the desert from the nightbrother village. Maul felt something turn in the pit of his stomach.

“Oh, no…” Feral murmured. 

“What is it?”

“Three calls,” the boy said, “the Nightsisters are coming."  


~

 

Maul watched the Nightbrothers gather in the village down below, masking his presence in the force so deeply that no Nightsister could feel it. It was a technique he had read about in the Sith archives, long ago. Whenever Sidious left him to his own devices, which became more often as he grew older, he would practice. He would practice pulling his own presence towards himself, smothering it like a flame between his hands, blistered and bloodied from his master’s brutal punishments. The more he practiced, the longer he could hold it before it burnt his skin and burst out again.

Even now, years later, it remained a somewhat tiring and conscious effort to dampen his presence. He recalled how easily the practice came to his old master. There were times he would enter during Maul’s training exercises under his notice, watching for any slip up, any mistake.  He knew better than to ask for mercy.

Thanks to this technique, Maul had successfully hidden himself from the witches since the moment he landed on Dathomir. In return for hiding him, he served the Nightbrothers whenever he was asked. He would help track animals during a hunt, or help the younger men carry containers of water every morning from the river. He would use whatever supplies he had to heal the wounded, or at the very least, lessen their pain as they died. Like Ravel.

He jolted out of his reverie as he felt his own grip on his force presence slip. He cursed his stupidity as he struggled to bring it back under his control. If a nightsister had sensed that momentary lapse, his whole refuge could have been compromised. Word of a rumored darksider on Dathomir could spread through the sisters, to the many eyes and ears his old master had hidden throughout the galaxy. Sidious would be on him in an instant. He didn’t want to think about what would happen to him after that.

A black shape in the distance, barrelling across the sands, kicking up clouds as it approached the village. This must be the Nightsister Feral was talking about. The Zabrak held his binoculars up as she entered the village grounds. She dressed head to toe in dark green robes, her hood and mask obscuring all but her eyes. What skin showed looked as pale and sickly as bone.

The nightbrothers fell into formation, Savage and Feral among them, side by side as always. Viscus greeted the nightsister with a bow. She didn’t return the gesture. She walked easily among them, staring each one down. None of them dared look her in the eye.

She stopped in front of one of the taller men, Thrasher. He had been Ravel’s older brother, before he was lost in the hunt earlier that year. The witch reached a hand up to Thrasher’s face, almost tenderly cupping his pointed chin. Then back-handed him so harshly he sprawled across the sand.

The poor man had been standing right next to Feral. She turned to him next. Maul bristled fiercely, almost losing his grip on his mask once again.

The witch said something. Feral recoiled in horror and Savage was right there, between his little brother and the witch. She raised her hand to strike him but he grabbed her wrist. The man bared his teeth. Feral had told him once that Savage was a warrior, that he wasn’t scared of anything. Maul only saw the response of a threatened animal.

The witch said something else. Savage’s snarl didn’t falter, but he let go of her wrist.

Maul didn’t need to ask what had happened when he rejoined the tribe.

His brothers had been chosen for the trails.

 

~

 

The sands below turned silver as Dathomir’s moon rose to darken the sky, a few wispy desert clouds obscuring patches of the stars. Maul sat in silence next to Savage, on the same cliff’s edge that overlooked the nightbrother village. Standing-torches bathed the huts in a pale yellow light. Usually there would be a buzz of activity at this time in the evening, but there was no movement, and there were no men.

“Why do the Nightsisters hold these trials?” Maul asked, finally breaking the silence.

“It depends,” his older brother answered, “There are a few different reasons. Sometimes the sisters choose us to test our strength as warriors, problem solvers… I think it’s a way for them to gauge our usefulness. Another reason is for… breeding purposes.”

Maul stared in disgust.

“The Nightsister will choose the most promising warriors,” Savage continued, his voice flat, “and pit them against each other. Sometimes men die. The ‘winners’ never return.”

“That is barbaric,” Maul said.

“That is the way it is,” Savage answered, “But sometimes, I cannot understand why the nightsisters choose us the way they do. Why choose Feral and I? Sometimes I think they just use us for some sadistic game.”

“I could prevent it,” Maul said, “I could fly you both out of Dathomir, right now.”

“If we ran away, the witches might take it out on the other men. The men would think we were cowards. Neither of us want to run, brother.”

“Will you die in these trials?”

“We have survived them before.”

“That is not an answer.”

“It is the best I can give. If Feral lived through the Rite, he can live through this. And this time I’ll be there to protect him.”

“He’s been chosen before?” Maul asked in disbelief, “When?”

“Not long before you arrived,” Savage said, “all of the brothers must fight in the arena, at least once. It’s a rite of passage. It is what turns the boys in to men. I didn’t think he would have to return to that place so soon.”

He imagined little Feral standing alone against some Dathomir witch. Feral wasn’t a fighter. Feral wouldn’t hit back, because he didn’t have it in him. His hearts pounded in his chest, his blood rising at the mere thought of it. If only there was more time, he could teach the boy how to defend himself. But the trial began at dawn.

Maul looked over at Savage. He sat with his legs folded, his hands on his knees, the long nail of his thumb absently tracing circles on the grey fabric. The contrast of his dark brown tattoos surrounding his deep-set, silver eyes. His high cheekbones, the curve of his chin. The quiet look on his face stuck in Maul’s memory.

Savage stood up, brushing some sand from his trousers.

“We should be getting back,” he said as Maul rose, “it’s late.”

Maul watched as his brother starts to head back down the trail, a question sticking in his throat.

“Savage.”

The Nightbrother looked back at him. Maul hesitated.

“Hunts would be boring without you,” he said, “don’t get yourself killed and mess that up for me.”

Savage laughed, and they walked back to the village in a comfortable silence.

 

~

 

The two men left that morning, just as the sky began to turn grey. Two Nightsisters had come on their speeders, and the tribe watched in silence as their brothers were taken away. When Maul rejoined them, the sun finally broke over the horizon, spilling orange and pink light across the sky.

No one looked at him as they went about their regular morning duties. Some returned to their huts and caught up on the sleep they’d missed. Others, like him, felt too skittish from the sister’s visit to go to sleep. Maul fidgeted with some loose thread on his shirt, pulling and twisting it between his fingers. Something didn’t feel right. He felt that they all knew something he didn’t.

“Maul.”

Brother Viscus. Maul turned to face him, expecting some explanation. The man watched him in silence for a bit, as if thinking of something to say. He had a sallow kind of face, as if it had been eroded by the desert wind. Some horns in his crown stood stunted or broken, and his sharp features and bright eyes, which may have made him handsome in his youth, had turned almost cruel with age.

“Go and help the boys collect the water, would you?” he finally said. Maul nodded, slightly confused.

“Viscus, what about Savage and Feral?” he pressed, “When will they return?”

“They will return when they’re given back to us,” Viscus responded, turning away.

Maul hand shot out, gripping the Zabrak’s wrist so harshly Viscus stopped dead.

“There is something you’re keeping from me,” Maul said, his voice low, “all of you. What happened at the assembly yesterday? What do you know that I do not?”

Viscus snatched his arm from Maul’s grip.

“What do the Nightsisters want, Viscus?” Maul pressed, his stare boring holes into the back of the Nightbrother’s head, “What is going to happen to my brothers?”

Finally, Viscus turned to him, a pitying look on his face.

“You know they’re Force-sensitive, don’t you?” Viscus said, quietly, “You must have sensed it in them.”

“Yes.”

“That is why they were chosen,” Viscus told him, “This is what happens to every Force-sensitive Nightbrother. They are taken away. They’re going to be trained by the Nightsisters, by Mother Talzin. And they’re never coming back.”

Maul thought of little Feral, facing his own Master’s trials and punishments. The thought of he and Savage screaming under Sidious’ lightning almost made him sick.

“Did they agree to this?” Maul demanded, “You didn’t tell them, did you?”

“The Sisters forbid me to tell them, otherwise I would have. Believe me Maul, I--”

“Spare me. Tell me where they’ve been taken. Now.”

“You can’t interfere,” Viscus said, his voice firm, “You will bring their fury down on all of us. This… this is the way it is. I’m so sorry.”

Viscus turned away. Mauls lips pulled back over his sharp, blackened teeth, his hand reaching for the lightsaber at his hip when he saw movement in the corner of his eye. Thrasher gripped him by the shoulder, an urgent look on his face. He opened his mouth to say something, but whatever it was caught in his throat.

“What do you want?” Maul snapped, his patience frayed, “Spit it out.”

“I couldn’t save Ravel,” Thrasher said, “but you lessened his pain. You helped him when I couldn’t.”

Maul said nothing. Thrasher leaned in.

“I know where they’re taking your brothers,” he whispered, “and I can show you where. But we need to go now. There isn’t much time.”

“You would be defying Viscus,” Maul said, “You would be defying the nightsisters. _Mother Talzin_.”

“You helped my little brother,” the young man told him, “the least I can do is give you a chance to save yours.”

A long pause stretched between them. Finally, Maul outstretched his arm. Thrasher smiled, relief washing over his face as he shook the Zabrak’s hand.

“I won’t forget this, Thrasher,” Maul told him.

“Let’s go,” the man said as he released his hand, “We don’t have much time, and it could take hours to get there on foot.”

“We aren’t going on foot,” Maul said, turning his back and walking towards the gate.

“We’re not?” Thrasher asked, falling into step beside him.

“No,” the zabrak said, a ghost of a smile on his lips, “We’re taking the ship.”

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to my friends who inspired and motivated me to write this story. This wouldn't have happened without you!


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